


Welcome Home

by CheerUpLovely



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 15:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheerUpLovely/pseuds/CheerUpLovely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha returns home from a mission having hoped for a different sight to meet her, but she'll make do with the one she's got. Even if his eyes aren't open.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Home

Natasha walks into Clint’s room that morning the same way she did the last time she saw him, three weeks ago now. There was a medic standing by his bed, and that could only mean one of two things. For a startling moment she wasn’t able to hear the heart monitor beeping and feared the worst but there’s a reassuring smile on the medics face when he spots her frozen in the doorway. “Agent Romanoff, you’re back from your trip.” Her trip was an undercover stint in Algeria, but she says nothing. “I wish we had a better welcome home for you,” he said, his eyes falling on Clint’s unconscious form.  
“Do you mind if I stay for a while?” she asked softly.

“Not at all,” he told her.

“How’s his condition?” she asked as she stepped further into the room.

“We’re holding our breath, but he’s finally starting to make an improvement,” he informed her. “His breathings been improving over the past four days and his heart rate has finally settled steadily. If he continues at this pace, he may be in his own rooms by the end of the week. “

“Oh,” she sighed, unsure of what to say next. When her plane had landed Coulson had told her that Clint’s condition was stable, nothing more, nothing less, because after three weeks of no contact all she really needed to hear was that he was alive. And now, after her own medical examination, she was here.

The medic gave her a gentle smile. “Maybe he knew you were coming home,” he joked softly.

She doesn’t joke back. This time yesterday even she didn’t think she was going to survive her mission. 

“I’m done here so I’ll give you your privacy,” the medic said, excusing himself. “If there’s any change, good or bad, let us know. He’s been in and out of consciousness for a few days but not really aware of his surroundngs, so don’t be alarmed if he wakes unless he’s struggling for breath or experiences any sickness.”

When he’d seen her confirming nod he left the room, allowing her to have her time alone with Clint. She took up a seat in the stool beside his bed, taking his hand in her own. She remained for an hour, and halfway through that time Fury himself came to ask for her debriefing and she silenced him with a look that made even the director of S.H.I.E.L.D back out of the room and close the door behind him. When he was gone, she stood and placed her lips to his forehead, greeting him properly now that it didn’t seem quite as overwhelming anymore. 

“Hey, Clint,” she whispered into the room.

A small moan greeted her, a tiny squeeze on her hand.

“Clint,” she whispered. “Clint, are you awake?”

Another moan.

“Can you open your eyes?” she coaxed, but there was no reply to this and he seemed more relaxed as if he’d been sleeping. She sighed and placed her lips to his cheek, about to sit down when she realised that he had tightened his hand around her fingers when she kissed him. It reminded her of how they would wake in the mornings, how he could ignore an alarm if his arms were around her but when she turned and kissed him he would wake slowly, bringing her closer as he held onto sleep. She kissed his other cheek and his hand tightened again. “Come on, Clint, wake up,” she whispered.

This time, an odd noise came out of his throat, gutteral and dry. She responded by placing her lips against his, met with the sound of his heart monitor speeding up slightly. She inwardedly laughed at the medics suggestion that he was not aware of his surroundings. He was waking up. He was responding. She let her lips linger and then pulled away. “Come back to me,” she whispered emotionally.

With that, she felt his hand release hers and come to rest on the back of his neck, weakly exerting minimal pressure as if to bring her closer. She responded willingly as tired lips reached out for her own, lowering hers to his as they met again in a soft kiss. It was soft, gentle and when she pulled away his eyes were still closed as if in sleep but there was a tear rolling down one of his cheeks. He was aware. He knew she was here. 

“Oh, Clint,” she whispered, pressing her face into his neck.

“Tash?” he whispered back, his voice dry and rough from being unused.

“Yeah,” she nodded, raising her head and placing her hands on the sides of his face. “I’m right here.”

“You’re home,” he gasped.

“Yes,” she nodded again, feeling her own tears well up.

“Safe,” he whispered, his hand falling from the back of her neck and landing on his stomach as the exertion of keeping it raised got to him.

“I’m safe,” she said. “Always am.”

He sighed heavily, his eyes cracking open. “Scared me,” he murmered.

She could see it in his eyes that he wanted to hold her, to bury her against him and never surface but he wasn’t strong enough to. She placed her lips against his again. “You can talk,” she pointed out. “You’ve been here four weeks now…”

He sighed and put his head further back into the pillow. She stood fully and ran her fingers through his hair. “You should get some rest,” she told him. “You could be out of here by the end of the week.”

He rolled his head on the pillow to face her as best he could. “I missed you,” he whispered, exhaustion clear on his face.

“Missed you too,” she said softly. “You get some sleep, and end of the week you’ll be back in our bed,” she told him.

“Together,” he smiled gently. 

She took one of her hands and placed it on her still flat stomach, telling him wordlessly exactly what she’d discovered in her own medical examination. “All of us, together,” she emphasised.

Clint was confused for a moment and then glanced down at where his hand was. Slowly, he made the connection of what she was trying to tell him and his breath caught in his throat. He swallowed audibly, partly because of the dry throat and partly becuase of the disbelief. He couldn’t organise his thoughts to put them into words, but after a moment his face broke out into the most emotion she could ever remember seeing on his face. The expression was so raw, so real, that he couldn’t have disguised a single thought.

She could see the exhaustion claiming him again, and she didn’t wait for him to put his emotions into words for own sake. He saw, he understood, and he approved greatly. She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair again. “Get some sleep, okay?” she told him. “You’ve got a family waiting for you now,” she smiled softly.

He gave the tiniest nods as his eyes closed, his hand still raised to her stomach. “For you,” he whispers as sleep claims him.


End file.
